Something Special
by Andrea O'Down
Summary: Ash and Lance have been married for a month now, and Ash is planning something special as a surprise, something that's usually way to house-wife-y for her. And that's cooking.


_For the writing prompts I'm doing on tumblr. An anon asked for "You're a terrible cook." for AshXLance._

* * *

 **Something Special**

Ash has never seen herself as a housewife. To be honest, she has always seen herself as far from being a housewife as a female can ever be.

And then she and Lance had moved in together, and suddenly she found herself, well, not _exactly_ as a housewife, but at least as someone trying to keep the apartment in a decent state.

Did it bother her that it was only her doing housework while Lance insisted that it messed with his image of being an artist?

Sure.

Did she say something back then?

No.

Because she thought that this was how it was supposed to be.

And sometimes, Lance had his moments when he actually didn't cause a mess, so she was happy with that.

And then they broke up, and things changed. A lot.

For both of them.

And then they got back together, and Lance tried to stay away from doing housework again.

But this time, Ash said something.

And he understood, and now they share the housework.

It only reminded Ash that they really had a communication problem during their first relationship.

And that maybe, just maybe, they had some growing up to do before they got back together.

And now it works.

Now they're even _married_.

But still, Ash doesn't see herself as a housewife.

Yes, she stays at home more, but that's because she's pregnant. She can't stay at her rehearsal room at the Moon Theater until deep in the night anymore.

She totally would, but she can't. For the baby's sake.

Lance even does more housework now.

Which Ash enjoys, of course.

Because it means that Lance would be a househusband before she'd be a housewife.

But today she's planning to do something special.

There is something she didn't even dare to do during their first relationship.

And that's cooking.

She's really bad at it. All she can make are sandwiches, coffee, and microwave popcorn.

But today is different.

Exactly one month ago, she and Lance got married.

So she wants to make something special for him.

She's read over recipes and recipes that day, trying to find something Lance would like.

First, she thought of making tofu-coq au vin because it sounds fancy, but then she looked over the recipe - and rejected that idea pretty quickly.

Same happened to her idea of cooking chop suey.

In the end, she settled for spaghetti with ready-made tomato sauce. She wanted to make the tomato sauce herself at first - until she saw the recipe. So ready-made sauce it is now.

All she needs to do now is cooking the spaghetti.

And this shouldn't be so hard, right?

* * *

She had no idea.

Her first try of making spaghetti ended in the dumpster because the spaghetti somehow turned into a mushy _something_ that didn't even look like spaghetti any longer.

She thought she did better with the second try, but then she tasted them, realizing that the spaghetti were hard to chew.

And now it's her third a last try because if this doesn't work she has no more spaghetti left.

She holds her breath when she's done.

She takes one spaghetti between two fingers, but before she puts it into her mouth, she gently strokes her small, but already visible baby bump.

"Sorry, if that tastes terrible again, baby," she says, sighs and puts the spaghetti into her mouth.

And it tastes good.

"Yes!" she calls out, stroking her baby bump again. "We did it, baby!"

Now all she needs to do is to warm over the tomato sauce.

And if she can make some decent spaghetti, she for sure is going to get this done, right?

* * *

Well, she was wrong. Again. Warming over some ready-made tomato sauce is harder than she thought.

She managed to ruin two pots because she burnt it. Twice.

She just hopes adding some, okay, a lot of spice is going to cover the burnt taste.

She arranged the spaghetti on two plates and decides it looks nice enough.

She sets the plates on the table just in time when the apartment door opens.

Lance is home.

Moments later, her husband pokes his head into the kitchen.

"Hi, love!" he says.

"Hello!" Ash replies quickly, holding out the plates. "I cooked dinner for us!"

Lance's eyes widen. "You did what?"

"You heard that right! I made dinner!"

"That's great, love!"

"I know!" She laughs in relief.

When she and Lance settle down at the kitchen table, it takes Ash a bit longer to climb the chair. One of the downsides of having a growing baby bump, but she better gets used to it. It's only going to get more difficult.

"Do you need help?" Lance asks.

"No! I can do this!" she says, and she ends up being right.

"Have nice meal, husband!" she says with a grin.

"You, too, wife!" Lance replies with a little laugh.

Ash takes the first bite - and can only do so much to not spit out again.

Granted, the burnt taste is gone, but she totally overdid the spicing.

It tastes terrible.

Friendly spoken.

She looks at Lance.

Lance returns her look. For a second they just look at each other before Lance swallows loudly.

"Hmmmmmmm, tasty!" he says although his twisted mouth doesn't really fit his words.

Ash takes a napkin and spits out her food.

"Liar!" she says. "It tastes awful!"

"No, no, it doesn't!" Lance replies, but Ash just raises a brow, and he lets out a sigh.

"Okay, it tastes awful," he finally admits.

"I know!" Ash says, burying her face in her hands.

Suddenly, she feels like crying, and the tears already prickle in her eyes. She tries to blink them away, but fails.

"Ash?" he hears Lance say, but she can't reply as the first tears run down her cheeks.

"Ash?" Lance asks again, and she doesn't miss the panic in his voice.

Instead of replying, she sobs.

She hears a movement and then feels a hand on her thigh.

"What's wrong?" Lance asks.

The concerned ring to his voice makes her only cry more.

Lance doesn't say anything, he just strokes her thigh, until she's calmed down a bit. Then she removes her hands from her face and looks at him.

He looks back at her, his eyes concerned and a bit insecure.

"I … tried to do something … special for you and ... and ruin it," she says, her words interrupted by little sobs.

"Something special?" Lance repeats. "For me?"

Ash nods, new tears running down her cheeks.

"Oh, Ash, love!" Lance calls out as he takes her hands into his, kissing them both. "You've done so many special things to me!"

"Really?" Ash asks.

"Really! I mean, you married me, you're carrying our baby, you are here for me, you love me," Lance says. "Do I need to go on?"

"But that's…," she begins, but Lance doesn't let her finish.

"That's all special," he interrupts her, putting a hand to her face, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb.

"Very special, actually," he goes on. "Well, to me, it is."

He smiles at her and it's such a warm, loving smile, Ash has to climb down that chair and hug him.

Lance returns the hug.

She just buries her face in his chest, inhaling his scent.

They just stand there, hugging each other before Lance speaks up again.

"Come on," Lance says as they let go of each other. "Let's order a pizza."

"Sounds like a plan," she says.

Lance takes her hand and leads her out of the kitchen.

"I was surprised, though," he says. "The spaghetti tasted okay."

"Yeah, took me three attempts," Ash admits.

Lance shakes his head with a little laugh. "You're a terrible cook."

"I know!" Ash replies with a little laugh of her own as she gives his hand a little squeeze.

And it might be her imagination, okay, it's pretty sure her imagination, because if she remembers correctly it's way too early for that, but for a moment, it feels like the baby is moving a little.


End file.
